The Miseducation of Piper Chapman
by orangefanfic
Summary: Piper bonds with a new celebrity inmate at the Litch. When I learned that singer Lauryn Hill is currently serving time in the same prison where the real Piper Kerman served, thought it made sense to do a crossover.


A slight frame, glowing chestnut skin and almond eyes that seemed to look straight through to your soul. A hush fell over the Litch as she drifted in. She had been a big deal on the outside. Fame. Controversy. Multiple Grammys. Rumors swirled about why she was there but no one seemed to know for sure. Between the gossip and what they could piece together from outdated newspapers in the library, she had become some kind of social misfit.

Poussey supposed that she had killed someone. "Celebrities don't just get locked up for regular shit," she reasoned over lunch. "She must have done something really foul to be up in here with the rest of you fools."

Even inside, the new inmate kept a strict schedule: sunrise meditation with Yoga Jones, followed by a stroll through the yard. Most of the others couldn't bring themselves to speak to her directly, but quietly tailed her every step hoping to catch a hint of the raspy alto voice that had made her a star. Even Taystee was rendered speechless in her presence and once, when they made direct eye contact, Taystee simply burst into tears.

"_Miseducation_ is everything," explained Black Cindy, who had first discovered the album when she found it lodged in the CD deck of a Camry she once boosted. _Ex-Factor_ became the anthem of brokenhearted girls everywhere and had truly changed her life.

The new inmate rarely spoke, but when she did it was always deep philosophical jargon about "dialectic metaphysicality" or "psychological recidivism." This only added to her charm. She was a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.

She amassed a devoted following whom she recruited to lend background vocals to her first solo album in 15 years, the entirety of which she recorded in a single afternoon while sitting on the toilet. She called it _My Transcendental Aura is Fundamentally and Perennially Conscious of Why the Caged Bird Harmonizes its Pain_. Standing in a circle, hands clasped, their voices resonating through the brilliant acoustics of the bathroom, they were one. No one minded that they wouldn't get paid, since one hundred percent of the proceeds already belonged to Sony. Flaca claimed, smugly, that this was exactly how Morrissey had gotten started.

"I don't see what the big attraction is," Red grumbled in between slurps of her Cup Noodles.

Red wasn't fond of the special treatment this new inmate got - that she could keep and play an acoustic guitar, and get extended visiting hours, and would sometimes wear a wrap skirt over her orange jumper without any repercussions at all. Within a week, she had successfully staged a sit-in to raise inmates' wages to an unprecedented 35 cents an hour, even though she herself refused to engage in prison work.

"That's too much power for one woman to have," snapped Red, failing to see the irony in her own statement.

Piper was thrilled. She found an unlikely friend in her new bunkmate, as the two shared a love of good books and a similar disregard for authority. Piper learned that during her self-imposed exile from society, she had read the entire collected works of Pablo Neruda and that she too wrote only in green ink so that her words evoked _esperanza_. The two spent hours discussing philosophy, politics, activism, and religion as they played in each other's hair. Their debates on the paradox of self and how to achieve true harmony lingered into the wee hours of the night.

It was during one of these chats that Piper had a deep revelation - about her own selfishness. When her bunkmate pointed out that Piper's position as a privileged, coddled, traditionally educated blonde had severely skewed her world view to the detriment of her moral compass, the scales fell from Piper's eyes.

_Alex is right, _Piper realized. _I am a naive asshole. _

"It only takes a drop of purity to clean a cesspool," the solution came in a hushed whisper across the bunks.

"It's true," Piper answered. "I owe them both an apology."

It was kind of a relief. Piper felt much lighter as she drifted off to sleep, determined to make peace with both Alex and Larry in the morning.

But it was short-lived, for the next day Piper's new bunkmate spit in a guard's face for failing to address her as "Ms. Hill" and was quickly transferred to another facility.

Let any of the inmates tell it, the guard deserved what he got.

But now Piper questioned everything. Maybe her bunkie wasn't as wise as she had thought. As Piper's eyes drifted across the room and settled on Alex, she questioned what she should do next.


End file.
